


Better to Give Than Receive by Immortally Spuffy

by maryperk



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Buffy Season 2 through Season 6, Christmas fic, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-25
Updated: 2013-01-25
Packaged: 2017-11-26 21:08:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/654431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maryperk/pseuds/maryperk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In response to the FangFetish Holiday Challenge. Buffy get Christmas gifts from her mortal enemy. She finds herself keeping them despite her feelings for Spike... and what's with the poetry? Different chapters were written by the following authors, MaryPerk, JackofSpikes and Kargrif.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1 (Season 2 Post What's My Line?)

"Hey, Mom," Buffy called out as she entered the house. She dropped her bag of books in the foyer before she headed down the hallway to the kitchen. "Sorry, I'm running late. Wills and I got caught up doing some stuff in the library for Mr. Giles."

"I'm running late myself," Joyce answered. She opened the fridge door, and she peered inside. "How about we order out for pizza? I really must go shopping tomorrow."

"Mmm, pizza goodness." Buffy grinned at Joyce. Her eyes fell on a neatly wrapped Christmas present by her mom's purse. "Oh, the gang at the art gallery gave you your present already."

"No, dear, that's for you. I found it on the front porch when I got home." Joyce pulled a take-out menu off of the fridge as she moved to the phone. "Open it up and see who it's from."

Buffy turned the package over in her hands while she studied how carefully wrapped the box was. She could tell whatever was inside was fairly heavy. She wondered if maybe Angel gotten her some kind of weaponry for Christmas as she carefully took the paper off. She pulled the lid off and sat there staring into the box.

"What is it?" Joyce looked up from the take-out menu. When she saw the puzzled look on her daughter's face, she hurried to look over Buffy's shoulder. "Why would someone send you a railroad spike?"

"A railroad spike?" Buffy squeaked. She had a bad feeling about the whole thing now. Giles had mentioned that Spike had earned his nickname by using a railroad spike on some of his victims, but Spike was dust under the burned out church where he'd cured Drusilla. Wasn't he?

"This one would be considered a collector's item. Look how nicely preserved it is." Joyce lifted the spike carefully out of the box. "There's a note underneath. Read it." She examined it while Buffy set the box down, took the paper out, and unfolded it to read the words. 

_Bitch,_

_How do I hate thee, let me count the ways,_  
I hate thee to the depth and breadth and height   
My non-existant soul can reach, when feeling out of sight  
For the ends of being and unideal grace.  
I hate thee to the level of every day's  
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.   
I hate thee freely, as men strive for wrong... or right.  
I hate thee dirtily, as they turn from praise.  
I hate thee with the passion put to use  
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's lost faith.  
I hate thee with a hate I seemed to lose  
With my lost saints. I hate thee with the unbreath,  
Frowns, dry eyes, of all my life; and, if the devil choose,  
I shall but hate thee better after death... YOURS. 

_When I get out of this soddin' wheelchair, I'm coming for you._

_With all my hate,_

_Spike_

Buffy rolled her eyes at the skull and crossbones that the vampire had sketched beneath his name.

"Are you going to read that out loud for me?" Joyce asked. She laid the spike back in the box before she glanced over at Buffy.

"I don't think so, Mom," Buffy sighed. "It's just an 'I hate you' note from a boy I know. I mean, he really, really hates me." She pushed the note into her pocket before her mother could snatch it from her.

"He sent you a nice Christmas present. I'm sure he doesn't hate you."

Buffy let out a strangled giggle. "I'm pretty sure he does. He gave me a hate poem. 'How do I hate thee, let me count the ways'."

"Really?" Joyce arched an eyebrow in her daughter's direction. "'How do I love thee, let me count the ways' is one of the most famous love poems in history. It's by Elizabeth Barrett Browning. I bet that librarian mentor of yours could help you find a copy. Besides do you remember Tommy Abbott?"

"That nasty boy from fourth grade that pulled my hair and called me 'Muffy' all the time?"

"Yes, that's the one." Joyce nodded in agreement. "Didn't he give you a kiss at the end of the year and tell you how much he liked you?"

"So not the same, Mom. Seriously," Buffy protested. "Spike is nothing like Tommy Abbott."

"His name is Spike?" Joyce blinked.

"Yeah. He wears black leather and bleaches his hair, too. Definitely not my type." Buffy picked up the box with the spike nestled inside. "I'm gonna take this upstairs and put it away. Call me when the pizza gets here, okay?"

"Okay," Joyce said absentmindedly. She remembered Parent-Teacher night when she had used an axe on a leather-clad, bleached blond male, and wondered if he was the same person who had sent Buffy the odd Christmas present.

Once Buffy got to her bedroom, she plopped down on her bed to study her 'hate' gift from her mortal enemy. There was nothing special about the spike. It was neither new nor shiny, but still there was something about it that made it interesting. Buffy picked it up and held it like a stake. She decided it felt quite good in her hand, and she found it ironic that their choices in weaponry were so similar.

"Phallic," Buffy muttered to herself. "No wonder weapons make him feel all manly." She sniggered at the memory of her first fight with the vampire.

Buffy dug the note out of her pocket, and then placed both it and the spike back in the box. She moved to the closet where she dug out the old hatbox that she used to keep her treasures safe. Placing her unexpected Christmas present inside, she closed the hatbox back up and hid it again. It wasn't something she wanted Angel or any of her friends to see and speculate about. Buffy didn't even to dare dwell on why she was keeping the gift rather than chucking it in the nearest trash can.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 (Season 3 Amends)

 

“Hey Mom! Did you see? It’s snowing!” Buffy shouted excitedly as she entered the house. Angel was safe, it was Christmas– which meant presents- and it was actually snowing; all was right with the world!

Joyce smiled indulgently at her joyous offspring. She loved seeing her daughter so happy; it was such a rare thing these days. She didn’t doubt for a moment that some of that happiness was based on the thought of gifts. Buffy was nothing if not predictable when it came to brightly gift wrapped surprises. With that thought firmly in mind, Joyce looked back at the beautifully gift wrapped box on the kitchen counter. She had a sneaking suspicion as to whom the gift was from and chortled as she thought about her daughter’s reaction if she turned out to be correct. _‘Mortal enemies, huh!’_

“A gift came for you, honey. It’s in the kitchen.” Joyce watched in amusement as her daughter flew past her, squealing with delight.

Buffy reverently let her hand rub over the beautifully raised lace embossing of the clearly expensive paper. Taking care so as not to damage the wrapping, she gently pried the tape holding it together. After removing it, she folded it and placed it to one side. Moving to the box, she lifted the lid and peered inside.

Buffy gasped in appreciation when she saw the contents. Inside the box a smaller rectangular wooden box inlaid with mother of pearl was nestled in a bed of tissues. Beside it sat a small glass bottle with a beautifully ornate silver lid.

Buffy reached for the wooden box. It was small, the size of a pencil box. Opening it, she discovered a set of perfectly preserved quill tips. The quill itself lay in the place where the box had been.

Joyce widened her eyes in awe. Never before had she seen a set so perfectly preserved or as stunningly beautiful. “Oh, Buffy,” she said reverently. “If this were from anyone else, I’d say this was far too expensive a gift to keep. They’re exquisite.” 

Wide, clueless wide eyes met Joyce’s knowing smile. Buffy had no idea who the gorgeous gift was from. Returning her gaze to the box, Buffy noticed the folded piece of paper that was tucked among the tissues. She reached for it, unfolded it, and started to read.

_If I could have just one wish,_  
I would wish to wake up everyday  
to the sound of your breath ceasing to be,  
the warmth of your blood on my lips,  
the touch of your fist on my skin,  
and the feel of your heart beating with mine... (As in NOT)  
Knowing that I could never find that feeling  
with anyone other than you 

_I violently dislike you too, Slayer._

_Yours,_

_Spike._

_P.S. Feel free to use the tissues to stuff your bra. There’d be no reason to watch you jump rope if you don’t._

Joyce missed the narrowing eyes and pursed lips of her daughter, still focusing on the beautiful gifts with awe.

“That boy is clever, isn't he?”

“He's not a boy, Mom, and what do you mean by clever?” Buffy pouted in displeasure. Why did the bane of her existence have to send such gorgeous gifts? Stupid vampire!

“Why don't you go look up ‘barb’ in the thesaurus, Buffy. It's in the front room in the curio cabinet. That is…after you tell me which poem he used this time?” Joyce grinned in amusement at her daughter’s forlorn pout.

Buffy handed over the note with a shrug, “I don’t recognise it.”

Joyce stifled her giggle at his cheeky post script. “It’s _‘If I Could Have Just One Wish’_ by Courtney Kuchta. The original version is _‘If I could have just one wish, I would wish to wake up everyday to the sound of your breath on my neck, the warmth of your lips on my cheek, the touch of your fingers on my skin, and the feel of your heart beating with mine... Knowing that I could never find that feeling with anyone other than you._ It’s interesting that he keeps choosing love poems.” Joyce innocently commented before busying herself with her preparations for their holiday feast, a sneaky little grin on her face.

Buffy continued to pout as she moved towards the curio cabinet with studied nonchalance. Checking over her shoulder to make sure her mother wasn’t watching, Buffy picked up the thesaurus and flicked through the pages until she found the one that she wanted. 

_‘Barb. Part of Speech: noun. Definition: point. Synonyms: arrow, bristle, dart, prickle, prong, quill, shaft, spike, spur, thistle, thorn.’_

Joyce watched her daughter with amusement before turning back to finish her work. She wondered briefly if either of them had even the slightest clue. She doubted it. Oh, well, at least she liked this vampire!

Buffy silently picked up her gifts and took them to her room. It wasn’t fair. Why did it have to be Spike that was sending her gifts that screamed of time spent in clever and thoughtful consideration? Sure, it was all about him killing her, but that was so not the point. He’d taken the time to think about a poem that suited, re-written said poem, chosen a well thought out ‘barb’ that was not only gorgeous, but- pun obviously intended- had his name written all over it, wrapped it in the most beautiful paper that was probably as antique as the gift, and sent it to her. 

Angel had given her a scarf!

She retrieved her box of keepsakes from the closet and lifted out the poem he’d sent her the previous year. Placing it beside the newest one she re-read both. Apart from the tissue comment- which he was gonna get a punch in the nose for the next time she saw him, and she didn’t doubt for a minute that there would be a next time- the use of the poems seemed out of character for the ‘Big Bad’ that she thought she knew. To be able to re-write them kinda implied that he was familiar with the originals in the first place. Spike knew poetry? Okay, that didn’t even bear thinking about.

Ignoring the butterflies that battled in her stomach, Buffy carefully added the newest acquisitions to her memory box. She determinedly convinced herself that the butterflies were just indigestion. The fact that she hadn’t eaten yet was completely ignored. For the second year in a row she avoided the subject of why she was keeping his gifts.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 (Season 4 Post Something Blue)

Buffy let herself into the house, carefully avoiding the stack of suitcases in the entranceway. She had rushed over after class to welcome her mother home and to check on their holiday plans. She was pretty sure that her dad would be a no-show, as usual, so it would just be her and her mother which was just fine with her. 

After the last couple of weeks, she wasn't sure she could handle being around a ton of people anyway. Plus, the recent lack of sleep had made her a bit cranky; at least that was what Willow had implied to her, in a very non-judgmental way. 

The slayer rolled her eyes as she thought about the lengths that her witchy pal had been going to, all in an effort to make up for the disastrous spell which was directly to blame for her recent lack of sleep. Waking up from dreams- no, nightmares- of kissing Spike, was not exactly conductive to a restful night.

Buffy shook off the thoughts of the blond menace. _Just stop thinking about him!_ "Mom?"

"In here, sweetie." 

The blond made her way around to the kitchen to find her mom pouring herself a cup of coffee. "So how was your trip?" Buffy asked as the two hugged.

Joyce visibly sagged against the counter, "Long. Your aunt is feeling much better, and I had just enough time to stop in and grab new clothes before my trip to New York, but it was really productive. I've got a lot of new items for the gallery that I think will do really well."

Buffy tried to show some enthusiasm but her heart just wasn't in it. "That's great, Mom."

"Are you alright? You look a bit like I feel, tired and drained," Joyce asked worriedly.

Buffy waved away the concern, "I'm fine, just having some trouble sleeping."

"Oh, it's nothing apocalyptic is it?"

"No, nothing like that. I promise," Buffy assured her as she sat down on one of the barstools. 

"So, how's college?" her mom asked pointedly.

"It's fine. I think I'm finally getting the hang of things."

"And slaying?"

"Um, nothing new there, I guess."

Joyce nodded. She was used to Buffy not sharing details about her slaying activities. "So, nothing unusual happening then?"

Buffy blushed deeply. _Nothing unusual unless you count your daughter making out with the evil undead, her watcher in the same room but blind as a bat and her best friend running for his life from demons, due to a magical spell created by her other best friend._ "Nope, nothing unusual," she answered.

Joyce had noticed the blush but knew not to push. It only made her daughter retreat further. Instead, she brought her coffee mug up to her mouth to hide the smirk that she couldn't repress. "Oh, by the way, you got a package. It was waiting when I got home."

Buffy visibly stiffened, "Oh? A package?"

The elder Summers took a small sip from her mug before replying. "Yes, I think I set it on the cabinet in the dining room."

"Oh, well I'll look at it in a minute," Buffy told her as she began to pick at the napkin sitting on the counter. 

Joyce smiled at her daughter. "So, how's your prisoner?" she asked innocently.

Buffy's head lifted instantly, "Why? What have you heard?"

"Um, nothing. I was just curious. It must have been horrible for him. I mean, to be captured by that military group and have them tinkering around in his brain, and then having to rely on his mortal enemy for help."

"Oh, yeah that." 

"Why, did I miss something?" 

Buffy shook her head vehemently. "No, no missage at all," she replied as she finished shredding her second napkin. "Um, I'm just gonna go check out that package," she said, slipping from the barstool and walking quickly to the dining room.

Joyce waited for a few moments before following her daughter. She had a good idea who the 'package' was from, and was sure that her daughter did as well. She was highly curious to see what he had sent this year. She rounded the corner in time to see Buffy lift the lid on the small flat box. 

It was the smallest of the packages so far, this one being about the size of a jeweler's necklace box. The wrapping was a bright shade of blue, and as usual, no outside markings to show where it had came from, just a small slip of paper taped to the top indicating who the recipient was. 

"Oh," Buffy sighed, setting the lid of the box to the side of the box. Joyce looked over her shoulder to see the contents as Buffy reached inside and removed the small gold ring from the cottony stuffing, holding it up to the light. 

It was styled like the rings that blacksmiths used to fashion out of horseshoe nails, but it was made of gold. It was obviously a spike, and while it looked delicate, it felt solid in her hand. The surface was polished to perfection, so much so that it gleamed in the light. "It's so pretty and look it has a diamond on the end."

"Is there a card?" 

Buffy pulled the cotton lining out to find the folded paper at the bottom of the box. She shifted away from her mother while she read in case it made any mention of spell induced kissage. 

_To Buffy,_

_It's bloody well cold here in the shadows,_  
I never get sunlight on my face. (Not since to stole my soddin’ ring, you bitch!)  
You weren't content to let me shine,   
Never let a bloke have a good time 

_I was the vamp with all the glory,_  
while you were the bitch with all the strength.  
An annoying bint with a stupid name for so long.  
A sickening smile to give me pain. 

_I bloody well know that you're a hero,_  
and everything I would like to kill  
you can hit harder than a freight train,  
and you're a bitch that steals my things. 

_It’s not like I tried to go unnoticed,_  
now I've got a chip lodged in my brain.  
I want you to know I know the truth  
I wouldn't be fangless without you. (‘cause it’s your bloody fault I came back to this buggerin' town) 

_I bloody well know that you're a hero,_  
and everything I would like to kill  
you can hit harder than a freight train,  
and you are a bitch that steals my things. 

_I bloody well know that you're a hero, (Bleedin' Watcher never shuts up!)_  
and everything I would like to kill  
you can hit harder than a freight train,  
and you are a bitch that steals my rings. 

_P.S. Since you love rings so much I had one made so that you wouldn't have to keep taking mine!_

_Spike_

Buffy looked up to find her mother inspecting the ring and blushed. 

Joyce smiled ruefully at her daughter. "Spike does have a thing for...spikes, doesn't he?"

"Um, yeah. Weapons make him feel all manly," she muttered absently.

"What was that?"

"Oh, nothing," she answered, handing over the note to her mom without thinking as she pondered over his choice in material. When did he have time to have the ring made, what with him being chained to a tub and all? Did he already have it? And what did that mean? And if he already had it, why did she get the crappy skull thing for an engagement ring? _Ugh, that stupid vampire makes me crazy!_

Her mother handed back the letter, watching silently as Buffy gathered the box and ring and headed to her room. Once there, she pulled the keepsake box from the closet and set in on her bed. Opening it, she took out the gifts and notes from the two previous years as she absentmindedly rubbed the new ring in her hand. She also pulled out the skull ring that had been wrapped in a small scrap of cloth. 

Buffy smiled softly as she remembered the tender feelings and excitement her engagement had brought before frowning deeply. _That's all over now,_ she thought. Not that she wanted it not to be over. Over was good. Over was fantastic. Over was just where she needed to be. 

So, why couldn't she forget about it?

"Ugh, this is crazy," she mumbled irritably as she piled the new gifts into the box. She gave the skull ring on last caress before dropping it in as well. 

The slayer shoved the box back up on the shelf with a new determination not to think about the bleached vampire or his strange gifts. Feeling immensely relieved, she bounced back down the stairs to grab some of her mother's luggage to take upstairs. 

"Buffy?" her mother called out from the dining room.

"Yeah, Mom?"

Joyce came to the entranceway. "On the note Spike mention 'rings', as in plural. You told me about the Gem of Amari, but what was the other?"

Buffy swallowed hard, "Um, it was Amara, Mom. And um, see... well, it's kind of a funny story..."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 (Season 5, Post Into the Woods)

Buffy let herself in through the front door and listlessly entered the living room. She was so confused. On one hand; she knew that she had never loved Riley. That’s not to say she didn’t care, ‘cause she did, she was big with the careing …just not so much with the whole love bit! And it’s not like she hadn’t tried! She’d tried a lot! Maybe it was just time to realise that Buffy and romance were not so mixy. 

On the other hand; Christmas without a boyfriend- even if said boyfriend had slowly been driving her crazy with his needy-ness- sucked with a severity. Possible upside; it meant one less present she had to worry about...and get. Damn. Oh! And didn’t that thought make her feel shallow. Rolling her eyes at her musings, she had a sudden and depressing thought, _‘at this rate, I’ll be accused of doing Angel impersonations!’_

Thinking about all that had happened over the past few days, the small blonde started to fume. Stupid Spike! Stupid interfering big mouth that probably showed her Riley’s little extracurricular activities just to upset her. The fact that he’d possibly saved the lives of everyone she cared about,including the stupid, needy, ho-visiting ex-boyfriend that had flown off to some godforsaken country that nobody had ever heard of, was beside the point. Any save-age was totally accidental, because of course there was no way that the bleached menace would try and save them all without getting something out of it. Evil, undead, sneaky fiend. Riley was gone and it was all Spike’s fault!

With a dejected sniff of self-pity, Buffy slowly made her way towards the kitchen and the disgustingly happy sounds of her mother’s and sister’s laughter that bubbled from the room. Christmas so sucked…and that was Spike’s fault too!

“Hi, Buffy,” Dawn chirped happily from her place at the counter before returning to the task of decorating the Christmas cookies.

“Hi sweetie,” Joyce smiled at her eldest. She hated seeing her beautiful daughter so depressed. She really hoped that her news would help put a little of the sparkle back into Buffy’s eyes. “You got a delivery,” she said brightly, pointing to the beautifully wrapped present on the counter.

Buffy eyed the gift with a mixture of trepidation and excitement. She knew exactly who it was from. A stupid, interfering, giver of gorgeous gifts that totally needed his big beak of a nose smashed repeatedly. Well, as far as she was concerned it had better be something that rated up there with double chocolate supreme ice cream-y goodness if he wanted to save his nose this time!

Picking up the small bright red package, Buffy carefully opened it and gasped. Nestled carefully within a bed of soft, white cotton was the most beautiful pin she’d ever seen. The ruby head was shaped like a rose bud, and diamond slivers glittered, giving the appearance of dew drops. A golden stem extended delicately from the flower head, small thorn like protrusions spiked out. 

“Let me guess; another word for thorn is spike?” Buffy was desperate to hang onto her desire to play kick-the-Spike. 

“It’s also another word for flower, dear,” Joyce offered softly. She had a sneaking suspicion that the blond vampire had finally realised he was in love with her daughter. She wondered how long it would take Buffy to figure out how she felt. 

“Sheesh, Buffy, this is _so_ much better than the skanky scarf collection that Fangelus gave you! Can I…?”

“NO!” Buffy snapped heatedly before her sister could ask the question they all knew she was planning on asking. “And don’t call him that!” she demanded petulantly. It wasn’t fair. Why did everybody pick on Angel? You’d think nobody liked him or something! Stupid vampire – always making Angel look lame.

Joyce carefully lifted the delicate broach and silently urged her cranky daughter to read the note that the pin had been resting on. 

Buffy reached for the note with an ill concealed grimace. She really didn’t want to lose any more of her anger at the bleached pain in her butt. Stupid, thoughtful vampire. Wait. No. Stupid _thoughtless_ vampire…yes, that was better. _Oh! Maybe it'll be so hate filled that I can really beat him up!_

_Buffy, (that’s a really stupid name!)_

_Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?_  
Thou art more infernally hot and more irritating.   
Rough winds do shake the stupid buds of May,   
And summer's lease hath all too short a date. (Ha! Just like slayers!)  
Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines,   
And often is her gold complexion dimm'd;   
And every fair from fair sometime declines, (Age will do that to ya. Things start sagging – if you get my drift!)  
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;   
But thy eternal summer shall not fade (Actually that’s a bloody lie…I’d offer to turn you, but then I’d prolly be stuck with you and your stupid hair…so, no.)   
Nor lose possession of that bitch thou ow'st; (don’t worry, Slayer, you’ll never lose that!)  
Nor shall Big Bads brag thou wander'st in his shade, (Again – lying, ‘cause you’re always getting in my way. Stupid bint!)  
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st: (two words – death wish!)  
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,   
So long lives me, and this gives annoyance to thee. 

_I don’t know why I bother; you prolly think Shakespeare is a bloody drink served at McDonalds!_

_And regardless of what you think, I didn’t show you to hurt you._

_Spike_

“A spearmint milkshake? Cool!” Dawn grinned at the idea.

“The pin is exquisite, dear, and did you realise that Shakespeare’s sonnet eighteen is another love poem? The actual poem hasn’t been altered very much at all,” Joyce offered with calculated innocence. 

Buffy rolled her eyes in frustration. Damned stupid vampire. Why couldn’t he stick to the box? Why couldn’t he just be a normal, ordinary vampire? What’s with the beautiful presents and poetry and songs and oooh! She did too know who Shakespeare was! 

Picking up her gift, Buffy headed to her room, never noticing the meaningful looks that her mother and sister exchanged behind her back.

As she placed the carefully packed broach and note within her memory box she skimmed her hand over each of the other gifts she had stored there before repacking the treasures away; all the while repeating one phrase over and over in her head. 

_‘He’s a vampire.’_

Why was that getting harder to remember?


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5, (season 6 Post Tabula Rasa)

Buffy stared at the red velveteen box perched on the bed in front of her, its brightness a direct contrast to her gloomy mood. Oh, she knew who it was from. The same person who had sent her a gift every year for the past 4 years, regardless of how much he hated her or where he was in the world. Buffy knew it would be a sweet and considerate gift, even more so now that he had actually admitted his affection for her. She just wasn't sure she was up to opening his gift, not without her mother there to share it with her.

Buffy flung herself backwards on to the pillows behind her. It was hot for wintertime, even in Sunnydale, California, and she was dressed in a tank top and shorts. She jumped slightly and sat up when there was a gentle tap at the window. Buffy knew that Spike was outside, smoking a cigarette while he watched the house. She had felt him out there, but she had been so lost in her own thoughts, she hadn't noticed his approach across the roof.

"Can I come in, Slayer?"

Nibbling her lip, Buffy looked down at the box on the bed, then back up at the window before she gave him permission. She knew that she couldn't ignore the vampire and expect him to go away. Besides, he was being polite and asking for entrance rather than barging in like usual.

"Nibblet got to her friend's house safely," Spike announced quietly. "I even made sure they didn't sneak out." The blond vampire had been in over-protection mode ever since the teenaged girl had gotten herself kidnapped- _again_ \- a few weeks prior by Sweet.

"Thanks, Spike," Buffy murmured. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Whatcha doing sitting here alone in the dark, pet?" The vampire took off his duster and threw it over the chair in the corner before he settled himself back against the windowseat. He was unsure of Buffy's mood, so he was playing it safe for a change and keeping his mouth shut, mostly.

"Got your gift," Buffy sighed. "It made me think of Mom. I miss her so much." She picked up the box from the bed to caress the soft fabric. Buffy got a wistful look in her eyes. "She was there when I opened the others, you know. Even though that first year, she didn't know what you were. Mom was under the impression that you were like that nasty little Tommy Abbott from fourth grade who liked to pull my hair and call me names because he liked me."

"Well, there is a distinct possibility she was right, Slayer, though I certainly didn't want to admit it at the time," Spike admitted with a chuckle. "'ve never been really good at courtin' a pretty girl, not even back in the day."

"So you sent me a railroad spike and a hate poem?" Buffy rolled her eyes.

"Figured you'd toss it anyway." Spike shrugged his shoulders. 

"You wish, blood breath." Buffy hopped up off the bed, forgetting how she was dressed. She missed the heated look the vampire gave her ass as she went into the closet, pulled down her treasure box, and returned to the bed.

"You kept..." Spike broke off in astonishment. He never, not once, expected Buffy to keep the gifts he had sent her. He blinked in surprise when she opened the box to pull out the gift box he knew contained the railroad spike he had sent her when he was in the wheelchair.

"Of course I kept them," Buffy protested. "I know I come across as just a silly valley girl, but Grandmother Brannon did teach me _some_ etiquette. One never throws away a suitor's gifts, no matter how much you dislike him." The last sentence was said in a hoity-toity tone.

Spike watched while Buffy pulled the gifts from the past four years from her treasure box and laid them on the bed in front of her. He moved over to sit on the bed beside her, hoping the entire time she wouldn't push him away.

Buffy picked up the box with the quill set and opened it. "I don't know how use these; you'll have to show me some time, but I do have to agree with Mom. You're very clever with the words, much more than I could ever imagine being."

"Don't sell yourself short, Slayer. You're plenty smart. Of course, 'll give you lessons using the quill." Spike glanced down into the treasure box where he caught sight of the silver skull ring that he had used during another of Willow's disastrous spells two years before. He picked it up to show Buffy, and he raised an eyebrow in question. "Too bad you didn't think to stick my other ring away instead of sending it off to Captain Forehead."

"Don't press your luck. The ring and the broach were both gorgeous; even if I can't wear them without a whole bunch of questions I don't feel like answering." Buffy turned to smile shyly at Spike. "If Grandma Brannon was alive she'd be really pissed that I've never thanked you. So, thank you." She leaned over to press her lips to the vampire's cool cheek.

"You're welcome, pet." Spike knew he would be blushing if he physically could. No one had thanked him quite so nicely since before he was turned, and he found he liked it. "How about you open this year's gift?"

"Um, okay." Buffy put down the past gift and picked up the current gift. "I don't have a bunch of money, but I got you something, too. It's under my pillow." She opened the velveteen box to read the note while Spike was getting his present from under her pillow.

_Buffy, luv_

_I love you, not only for what you are,_  
But for what I am when I am with you.  
I love you, not only for what   
You have made of yourself,  
But for what You are making of me.  
I love you, for the part of me  
that you bring out;  
I love you for putting your hand  
Into my heaped up heart  
And passing over  
All the foolish, weak things  
That you can't help   
Dimly seeing there,  
And for drawing out into the light  
All the beautiful belongings  
That no one else had looked  
Quite far enough to find.  
I love you because you  
Are helping me to make  
Of the lumber of my life  
Not a tavern but a temple;  
Out of the works,   
Not a reproach,  
But a song.  
I love you because you have done  
More than any creed could have done  
To make me good, and more than any fate  
Could have done to make me happy.  
You have done it without a touch  
Without a word, without a sign.  
You have done it by being yourself.  
Perhaps that is what being a friend means,  
Being a friend means,  
After all. 

_by Roy Croft_

_Please use this gift with my love, my friendship, and my desire for you to feel at peace with yourself._

_Love forever, Spike._

Buffy blinked back the tears that formed in her eyes. Why couldn't everyone else in her life love her like Spike did? He expected nothing from her and was quite happy with only her company. Buffy studied him out of the corner of her eye while he opened his gift. She stopped breathing when a beautiful grin crossed his face while he carefully lifted the roses out onto the palm of his hand.

"After you sent the quill set, I was in L.A. visiting my dad and I saw that. I have no idea why I bought it, but I sincerely believe that there is something in the Sunnydale water that puts us all in the state of denial." Buffy nodded her head emphatically.

"Who'd have thought somethin' like a railroad spike could made into something so beautiful," Spike whispered. He reached out to touch the small statue.

"Too bad you can't look in the mirror," Buffy whispered in return. She smiled shyly when he put the gift back in the box and turned his attention to her. "Now I wanna see what you gave me."

Spike was pleased with Buffy's reaction to the gift. When she looked up at him in question, he gestured for her to sit down on the floor crosslegged while he sat across from her. He took the chains from the box, and he helped her put them on while explaining the purpose to her.

"The magically enhanced stones go over your chakra's. I bet Tara can explain it all to you later." Spike clipped the first chain around the Slayer's hips, so that the stone laid low on her tailbone. "The first stone is a ruby which represents vitality. It's carved like a full red rose which represe,nts beauty. They go hand in hand." He shot her a heated look from beneath his lashes.

Spike clipped the second part of the chain, so that the coral stone lay just below Buffy's belly button. He then explained that the stone, which represented working harmoniously, was carved like red and white roses to represent together in unity. Spike clipped the next part of the chain so that gem lay just above the Slayer's belly button, but below her chest. The tiger eye which represented radiance, warmth, humor and laughter was carved like a yellow lily to represent gaiety. He helped her clip the fourth part of the chain so that the stone lay in the middle of her chest. He told her that the green jade represented peace, harmony and contentment, while the beautiful flower was a lily of the valley, which represented the return of peace. 

The next stone lay in the hollow of her throat, and Spike had to get his thoughts back on track when all he really wanted to do was lick the small indention in her skin. He glanced back at the stone and explained that the blue topaz represented speech and written expression, but the verbena flower said 'pray for me' in the language of the flowers. Between her eyebrows, he settled a sapphire, denoting devotion and soul realization. The passion flower the stone was carved as represented faith. Lastly, on the top of her forehead, the diamond for spirituality was carved as the white rose of spiritual love and devotion.

"So where does the 'spike' come into play with this gift?" Buffy asked playfully.

"Blossom; part of speech: noun; definition, flower; synonyms, bloom, blossoming, bud, floret, floweret, inflorescence, posy, spike." Spike chuckled. "Now, you relax and do some of that meditating jazz the Watcher likes to nag you about and I'll get us some hot chocolate. The stones will help you start feelin' better, yeah?" 

"You won't put me under and take my strength will you?" Buffy asked nervously. She hadn't been too keen on meditation since the whole debacle when she turned eighteen.

"No, luv, no plans on doin' anything like that." Spike narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Did Rupes do that to you when you were eighteen?"

"Yeah," Buffy said softly. "They had a crazed vamp for me to fight. He escaped, killed a bunch of council employees, and kidnapped Mom. It was a mess."

"Well, no worries, Slayer," Spike promised. "I got your back. I'll be back in a few minutes." He waited for her to nod before he left the room. He hoped that the magics of his gift would help the Slayer to feel better. Spike knew she was feeling the strain of being back among the living and the expectations of those around her. He just wanted her to feel better.

Fifteen minutes later, Spike carried two cups of hot chocolate into Buffy's bedroom. He was happy to see that she was still wearing the chains and stones, and that her face looked more relaxed than he had seen in years. He smiled when her eyes popped open when he set the cups down on the dresser.

"I feel so good, Spike," Buffy said softly. "Thank you so much! It's just what I needed."

"I'm glad to be of help, sweets." Spike helped her unclip the chains and put them away before he handed her one of the cups. 

"Mmmm." Buffy blew across the top of the steaming beverage. "I gotta say you're the best boyfriend I've ever had."

Spike stumbled and almost dropped his cup of hot chocolate. He stared at Buffy, but she was busy sipping her drink. He carefully put the mug down and opened and closed his mouth several times before he finally managed to speak, "Care to repeat that last one again, Slayer?"

"Huh?" Buffy looked up from her drink. "Oh, you're my boyfriend. You don't think I go around kissing guys I'm not serious about, do you?"

"What about the Scoobies?" 

"What about them?" Buffy crossed the room to put her cup down on the dresser next to his and grabbed one of his hands. "They want me to be happy and you make me happy. You bring the fire back, especially when you say something totally stupid and I wanna smack you." She hauled him towards the bed, where she pulled him down on top of her.

The blond couple surfaced much later to cold cocoa, but happy minds, hearts, and in the case of the Slayer, a happy soul.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

SEVERAL DAYS LATER

Willow noticed a new picture hanging in Buffy's living room. On closer examination, she realized it wasn't a picture at all, but a framed railroad spike. She pointed it out to Xander, Anya, and Tara, who was there to pick Dawn up for a movie. Dawn giggled and rolled her eyes, but kept quiet about it even when prodded for an explanation.

"Hey, Buff," Xander called out. "What's this spike doing hanging on your wall?" He turned to see Buffy coming down the stairs.

"Oh, Spike gave that to me for Christmas," Buffy answered as she came into the living room to greet the Scoobies. 

"He what?" Xander shouted. "That's just sick!"

"Well, he was in the wheelchair at the time, and trying to kill me. I guess it was kinda appropriate." Buffy shrugged carelessly. 

Tara could see there was something different about Buffy. She was at peace with herself and the Slayer's aura reflected that. She studied the blond girl carefully, taking in the differences. Then she noticed the broach pinned to Buffy's shirt.

"T-that's a pretty broach, Buffy," Tara said shyly. "I haven't seen it before." She stepped closer to examine the piece of jewelry.

"Spike gave it to me last year. You like it?" Buffy smiled at the Wicca. "He gave me some meditation stones this year for my chakra spots. He said you might be able to explain them to me later."

"S-sure, I'd l-love to," Tara replied.

"Show them the ring." Dawn bounced around in place. "I thought you'd thrown Spike's gifts away, but you didn't. It's just so cool."

"Settle down, Dawn," Buffy said with a laugh. She held out her hand to Tara. "Spike gave me a ring a couple years ago for Christmas. Around the time you joined the Scoobies, Tara."

"It's so pretty." Tara examined the ring carefully. "Spike's got great taste. Are there any other gifts?"

"Oh yeah, he gave me a set of quills and ink." Buffy gestured towards the desk. "Each gift has to do with his name, and he sent hate poetry with them, too. Well, except this year. I'll show you when you come over next time."

"What is going on here?" Xander demanded. "You kept gifts sent by that... creature?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but yeah, I did." Buffy turned to look at her friends. She knew from Tara's reactions that she wasn't going to be upset with her, and she was sure Anya could care less about Spike. It was the others that were going to flip. "I'm gonna keep any other gifts he gives me, too. He makes me happy, guys. He makes me feel alive, and loved, and I really don't care that he's soulless. Or that he's not normal. No, I don't see fat grandbabies in a future with Spike. Then again, I never did see that. That's your dream, and Angel's dream, not mine. Just let me be happy for a change."

"He really makes you happy?" Willow asked. Her eyes darted around to the others in the room while she tried to assess their reactions. She could see that Xander was the only one in the room with any problems with Buffy's choice. 

"Yes, he really makes me happy." Buffy nodded. "Happier than I was with Angel and his mysteriousness or Riley and his normalness. If I hadn't been so caught up in everybody else's expectations I could have given him a chance months ago."

"This just isn't right," Xander protested. "You must have come back wrong, Buffy. Wills, you better check the spell; you did something wrong."

"There's nothing wrong with me, Xander. I resent you saying that to me and to Willow!"

Xander suddenly found himself surrounded by five women. Five very angry women. He gulped and suddenly wished there was a bit more testosterone in the Scooby gang. He raised his hands in defeat. Alexander Lavelle Harris was many things, but stupid wasn't one of them. Well, not technically, anyway. Suddenly he was swamped with hugs and kisses from all sides. Xander knew he could get use to this.

"Hey, what's goin' on in here?" Spike entered the living room. He stepped back in shock when the five females hugging Xander rushed over to hug him, too. Soon, all but Buffy pulled away from him. Spike surveyed the group before he leaned down to give the Slayer a quick peck on the lips. 

"Dawn and Tara are going to a movie," Buffy said. "I thought maybe the rest of us could go down to the Bronze. Do a little dancing, shoot a little pool, stake a few non-boyfriend type vamps?"

"Sounds like a plan," Spike replied. "Spent my last penny on your present, luv. I need to hustle a few jokers for some spendin' money."

Buffy shook her head while she rolled her eyes. Some things never changed, and that made her damned glad. She linked her arm through Spike's as she ushered her friends out the door. Maybe things were finally coming together for her. She hoped so anyway. It was about damned time!

 

The End


End file.
